


Patchwork

by VibrantVenus



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Body Dysphoria, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Loss of Identity, POV First Person, Platonic Romance, Secret Crush, Zombies, also as i was writing this became less 'shippy if you squint' and kinda just shippy so uhhh here?, ravi/liv if you squint, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16291988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibrantVenus/pseuds/VibrantVenus
Summary: You are Liv Moore, and you don't recognize the face staring back at you in the mirror,





	Patchwork

**Author's Note:**

> i just. idk i was feeling sad.  
> also i shoul actually really just sit down and watch this show because it seems like it's actually really good, i'm just terrible and bounce between shows like some kind of hobgoblin with no sense of justice.  
> 

   You stare at yourself in the mirror. "I am Olivia Moore," you say.

   But it's a lie.

   You are a hundred people, a hundred dreams and hopes and fears and desires.

   You are a woman, desperately missing her children, you're a son, a daughter, a  brother, a sister, a mother, a father. 

   You are who you eat, you think, and on a good day that particular joke might make you laugh.

   You wake up clawing at your chest, an ache burning just underneath your skin. If you were still human your skin would be a raw angry red, but you're not and it hurts. 

   You look in the mirror, and you just-

   You speak with a hundred tongues, you are Olivia Moore, and you are not. 

   A part of you, sad and angry and foreign remembers cold nights and a cough that ached. Remembers screaming and packing and hiding in cold alleyways.

   Remembers how good it felt to take scissors to your hair.

   You close your eyes and when they open you find your fingers clutching the scissors. It's a desire, itching just beneath your skin. You take a strand of hair between you fingers, stare at yourself in the mirror, contemplate.

   You put the scissors down.

   You blink and you're at the morgue, staring down at the scalpel in you hand, the body on the table. 

   You usually don't lose time like this. No matter how much you lose yourself, you were always able to maintain a grip on reality. It's frightening, and you wish this brain would wear off faster.

   Ravi arrives and you find yourself a tether. He looks at you, and he smiles, and you feel butterflies in your stomach. Joy burbles in your chest, and you think,  _'a friend'_

You may not recognize yourself, but friends are universal. Friends can help build communities, safe places. The boundaries between friends are different then those built with parents. Friends can be family, but you both build the foundation. 

   You smile, and it's weak, but it's something.

   You try to joke like normal with him, but you don't really have a set normal when you have a personality change every time you get hungry. He notices quickly that somethings off, and all you can think is:

    _ravi, ravi, ravi, why are you so nice to me?_

Still, he's a light in the dark, a constant you didn't realize you needed. 

   The romantics in you wonder what it would be like to be normal and human. Wonders what it would be like to be Mrs. Chakrabarti. Likes the way  _Liv Chakrabarti_ sounds. Your heart flutters, but you press it downdowndown.

   He smiles at you, all soft concern and worry, and you think you're in love.

   You blink and he's holding your hand. His skin is warm and you imagine a life with him. The soft kind of romance that it would be oh so easy to fall into if only you were a little more human and a little less life threatening. You blink and you suddenly realize you're crying. It feels like it's been so long since you last cried, you'd thought yourself incapable. But you can feel it, hot drops of water sliding down you face, your chest hurting, a headache forming.

   You're both on the floor, your face pressed against his chest as you cry, however odd and confusing it feels. Ravi smells...clean, comforting. It's something you can't describe, something so wholly Ravi that you feel yourself calming down. You feel embarrassed, and when you try to apologize to Ravi for crying on him, he hushes you.

   "I just...sometimes it's overwhelming, having so many people inside my head."

   He smiles, ushering you into the office, it's fine, he says as he settles you on the couch.

   When he leaves you, you find yourself comforted. Loving Ravi feels normal. A life preserver when you're drowning in the ocean of thoughts and memories and dreams that are yours, but also are not. 

   You lie back against the couch, count the tiles on the ceiling.

    _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...._

You're a mix of people and thoughts and feelings, and you wish you were human. Wish you didn't have a brain filled with dead people.

   But you'd never have met Ravi if it wasn't for all of this. Wouldn't have met Ravi, or Clive or Blaine who was an asshole most of the time. You'd just be Liv Lilywhite, and you've realized that while a part of you still aches for the future you could have, another, bigger part is content with what you have, no matter how exhausting and overwhelming it gets.

   You close your eyes.

   I am Olivia Moore, you think.

   It doesn't feel entirely true, but there's no false reflection in a mirror to tell you otherwise.

   It's good enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> when i started writing this it really wasn't meant to be as like.....shippy as it was but then halfway through i basically said fuck it aand sprinkled in some of the romance i really wanted in there.


End file.
